I glance at the sun disappearing through the trees on the horizon. I estimate the time is 20:00, which means the shops will close soon. Most probably have already. I follow behind the rest of the group as they seem to know where they’re going. The mysterious sniper heads the crew; she walks quickly and with intent towards the buildings of the Third Ward Free Market. The crumbling cream colored stone of the buildings is golden in the dying sun. I hear the babble and yelling of voices get louder and louder as we approach. Well, here goes.
Some of us need food, some need guns. Most of the group goes to procure some food, and Jocelyn promises me a share of hers. It’s almost as if she’s taken a liking to me. Maybe because I remind her of a dead sister or something. I mentally shrug and evaluate my situation. I know I need to eat, but if Jocelyn is going to help me out, then I really should get a gun. This military knife isn’t going to get me much farther, especially if we encounter more Waltzers. The sniper already heads towards the building an associate of hers pointed out. I have to jog to catch up, and she doesn’t even acknowledge my presence. I doubt she trusts anyone, but she knows what she’s doing here, so I stick with her.
The sky is now a navy blue with streaks of light left towards the West. Stars begin to pop out, and I can no longer see much. We come upon one of the cream stone buildings. It has been kept up-the stone isn’t breaking apart like the others. Plus, there is a modification. An eight foot tall steel door has been fitted into the doorframe at the front of the building. It looks as if they even had to widen the doorway to fit this massive contraption. The silent sniper presses a button to the right of the door. After a few heartbeats, I hear the chink of metal locks being slid on the other side. The door opens inwards and a massive bearded man stands in the doorway. He appears to be about 6’ 8” and is muscularly built. This dude takes no shit from anyone. I begin to tremble a little- what kind of place is this?
Luckily, I don’t have to speak. My silent partner actually knows how to talk, and she informs him that she’s looking for a gun.
“Well, little lady, what kinda gun?” he smirks, clearly underestimating the woman next to me. I stand stock still, just hoping this ordeal will be over with soon.”
“A rifle. The best one you got.”
“Hmm. Well we may or may not have a rifle.”
“If you don’t have any, I’ll take my business elsewhere.” She begins to turn around and the guy grunts and waves her in. She follows through the doorway, and I’m right behind her.
The room is hazy. It looks like the reception area of a business or store from before the End. It is a large square room with peeling yellowed wallpaper and a fireplace in one corner. A couch and two armchairs litter the floor of what probably was the waiting area. A coffee table made from wooden pallets accentuates the decor, and is covered in cigarette butts and tin cans. I see a couple guys smoking hand rolled cigarettes in the corner opposite from the fireplace. I haven’t seen many people smoke, and it intrigues me. I stare at the smoke billowing out of a bearded mouth. The guy blows out the smoke so that little circles float in the air and then dissipate into vapor. I watch a few rings float to the ceiling. The stale smell of the tobacco fills my nostrils and its vile, but in a curious way. I breathe in the new scent for a couple seconds and then I hear someone cough. I turn to the noise.
The sniper stands in front of a long makeshift counter made out of wooden crates and metal pieces clumsily pounded together. The crates are covered in graffiti- obscenities mostly. The sniper gives me an impatient look, and I awkwardly walk to the counter with her and the big guy who let us in watching my every step. I reach the counter and rest my hand on a crate. The sniper gestures to Mr. Muscular to begin. He turns away from me and goes into a back room separated from this one by a tattered black sheet. He returns with a hard plastic guitar case. The hinges are rusted, and dust poofs off the case when he slams in on this counter. I accidentally inhale some of the dust, and try not to cough as it fills my esophagus. I clear my throat a little, and that seems to help. I always manage to act like an idiot during these types of deals. I sigh inwardly and attempt to focus on what’s happening in front of me.
The big guy pulls out an old .22 semi auto. The barrel is a bit rusted towards the business end, but for my untrained eye it looks okay. The sniper examines the exterior of the gun, and points it towards the steel door. She cocks it and pretends to shoot, her left eye shut. She sets it down on the counter and gestures again. He pulls out a tactical rifle- a Sig Sauer M400- and I see a faint smile on my companion’s face. She does the same examination on this one, though visibly more enthused. She sets it down on the counter next to the others.
“How much.”
“100 water tokens for both.”
“75 and that .38 you’ve got in that case.” I stare at her. How did she know there was .38?
The guy chuckles. “Deal.”
The sniper brings a leather pouch out from the inside of her jacket and dumps the tokens on the counter. She then straps the rifles to her back and hands me the .38. Damn, people are good to me. She leads the way towards the door as I wonder why people are giving me special treatment. I must not appear weak; otherwise they’d just leave me behind. Ah well, I’ve got a new gun, and hopefully Jocelyn scrounged up some food.
I glance at the sun disappearing through the trees on the horizon. I estimate the time is 20:00, which means the shops will close soon. Most probably have already. I follow behind the rest of the group as they seem to know where they’re going. The mysterious sniper heads the crew; she walks quickly and with intent towards the buildings of the Third Ward Free Market. The crumbling cream colored stone of the buildings is golden in the dying sun. I hear the babble and yelling of voices get louder and louder as we approach. Well, here goes.
Some of us need food, some need guns. Most of the group goes to procure some food, and Jocelyn promises me a share of hers. It’s almost as if she’s taken a liking to me. Maybe because I remind her of a dead sister or something. I mentally shrug and evaluate my situation. I know I need to eat, but if Jocelyn is going to help me out, then I really should get a gun. This military knife isn’t going to get me much farther, especially if we encounter more Waltzers. The sniper already heads towards the building an associate of hers pointed out. I have to jog to catch up, and she doesn’t even acknowledge my presence. I doubt she trusts anyone, but she knows what she’s doing here, so I stick with her.
The sky is now a navy blue with streaks of light left towards the West. Stars begin to pop out, and I can no longer see much. We come upon one of the cream stone buildings. It has been kept up-the stone isn’t breaking apart like the others. Plus, there is a modification. An eight foot tall steel door has been fitted into the doorframe at the front of the building. It looks as if they even had to widen the doorway to fit this massive contraption. The silent sniper presses a button to the right of the door. After a few heartbeats, I hear the chink of metal locks being slid on the other side. The door opens inwards and a massive bearded man stands in the doorway. He appears to be about 6’ 8” and is muscularly built. This dude takes no shit from anyone. I begin to tremble a little- what kind of place is this?
Luckily, I don’t have to speak. My silent partner actually knows how to talk, and she informs him that she’s looking for a gun.
“Well, little lady, what kinda gun?” he smirks, clearly underestimating the woman next to me. I stand stock still, just hoping this ordeal will be over with soon.”
“A rifle. The best one you got.”
“Hmm. Well we may or may not have a rifle.”
“If you don’t have any, I’ll take my business elsewhere.” She begins to turn around and the guy grunts and waves her in. She follows through the doorway, and I’m right behind her.
The room is hazy. It looks like the reception area of a business or store from before the End. It is a large square room with peeling yellowed wallpaper and a fireplace in one corner. A couch and two armchairs litter the floor of what probably was the waiting area. A coffee table made from wooden pallets accentuates the decor, and is covered in cigarette butts and tin cans. I see a couple guys smoking hand rolled cigarettes in the corner opposite from the fireplace. I haven’t seen many people smoke, and it intrigues me. I stare at the smoke billowing out of a bearded mouth. The guy blows out the smoke so that little circles float in the air and then dissipate into vapor. I watch a few rings float to the ceiling. The stale smell of the tobacco fills my nostrils and its vile, but in a curious way. I breathe in the new scent for a couple seconds and then I hear someone cough. I turn to the noise.
The sniper stands in front of a long makeshift counter made out of wooden crates and metal pieces clumsily pounded together. The crates are covered in graffiti- obscenities mostly. The sniper gives me an impatient look, and I awkwardly walk to the counter with her and the big guy who let us in watching my every step. I reach the counter and rest my hand on a crate. The sniper gestures to Mr. Muscular to begin. He turns away from me and goes into a back room separated from this one by a tattered black sheet. He returns with a hard plastic guitar case. The hinges are rusted, and dust poofs off the case when he slams in on this counter. I accidentally inhale some of the dust, and try not to cough as it fills my esophagus. I clear my throat a little, and that seems to help. I always manage to act like an idiot during these types of deals. I sigh inwardly and attempt to focus on what’s happening in front of me.
The big guy pulls out an old .22 semi auto. The barrel is a bit rusted towards the business end, but for my untrained eye it looks okay. The sniper examines the exterior of the gun, and points it towards the steel door. She cocks it and pretends to shoot, her left eye shut. She sets it down on the counter and gestures again. He pulls out a tactical rifle- a Sig Sauer M400- and I see a faint smile on my companion’s face. She does the same examination on this one, though visibly more enthused. She sets it down on the counter next to the others.
“How much.”
“100 water tokens for both.”
“75 and that .38 you’ve got in that case.” I stare at her. How did she know there was .38?
The guy chuckles. “Deal.”
The sniper brings a leather pouch out from the inside of her jacket and dumps the tokens on the counter. She then straps the rifles to her back and hands me the .38. Damn, people are good to me. She leads the way towards the door as I wonder why people are giving me special treatment. I must not appear weak; otherwise they’d just leave me behind. Ah well, I’ve got a new gun, and hopefully Jocelyn scrounged up some food.